


Simply the Best

by BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie



Series: This Love [4]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie/pseuds/BrevityIsTheSoulOfLingerie
Summary: Chloe wins her first Oscar, but Beca's the one who comes out on top ;)





	Simply the Best

I haven’t seen Chloe in nearly six hours. She’s been with her stylist and her hair and make-up team since 10 a.m. getting ready for the Oscars. 

Honestly, I feel like a kid on Christmas, just counting down the minutes until I can at least see my present, never mind open it. Until then, I spend my time pacing, trying to read a magazine, checking emails, playing a dumb game on my phone – basically anything I can do to make the time go faster and to keep my mind off of the big reveal.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Chloe will look beautiful in whatever she chooses to wear. She could come down the stairs dressed as Olive Oyl and I still think I’d want to throw her down on the floor and have my way with her 10 times over. 

Now that I mention it, keeping my libido in check tonight will be a challenge. For starters, Chloe’s spent all this time getting ready. I doubt she – or her stylist – would appreciate me ravaging her in the back of the limo…before the red carpet, before they flash her image on screen with the other nominees. Further, having been to the Oscars before, there’s really no place to do it. The bathrooms are a revolving door of women who apparently have bladders the size of jelly beans. Backstage, well, that could be hot, but there are always so many people running around and the overall air of the place is panic and stress, which in’t exactly conducive to orgasms. That said, privacy isn’t really an issue – public sex kinda gets Chloe going; it’s really the lack of space. It’s body to body back there -- crowded and loud and hot. On second thought though, that may be just the cover we need. Then of course there’s just doing it at the seat, but I never know who will be sitting next to us, when Ellen DeGeneres is going to take a selfie with us, or if the camera will randomly pan to us for our reaction. The safe thing to do is to wait until tonight. Until we get back home. The best laid plans…

Chloe is nominated as best supporting actress in a comedy for the film she did last year, Third Time’s A Charm, and, if you let yourself get caught up in all the Hollywood armchair quarterbacking, she’s favored to win. The movie was quite good and I’m not just saying that. Several critics have compared her to Goldie Hawn, but I know she doesn’t have her hopes up and she really and truly is honored to just be nominated…to have her work recognized. Of course, I want her to win. I think she should win, but I am merely one Academy voter. 

Regardless of the outcome, I’m exceptionally excited for her and proud of her. And I’m honored to attend something this huge with her. Mostly though, I’m just honored to be with her. 

I think my head is about to explode when I hear a faint throat-clearing behind me. I know it’s Chloe. I swallow hard – steeling myself for what I’m about to see. I turn around and nearly forget how to breathe. She’s wearing a bright sapphire blue off-the-shoulder dress that’s slinky and form-fitting, hugging her hips and her boobs, with a dangerously high slit up her left thigh, revealing her long, muscular leg. Her freckled décolletage is exposed, flanked by her toned arms and two diamond shaped cut-outs at her waist show off her smooth, tanned skin. Her hair is in long loose waves that brush over her naked shoulders and her make-up is, as always, perfect – only enough to highlight the glow of her face and bring out the saturated color of her eyes. 

Wordless, I meet her at the bottom of the staircase, holding out my hand so she doesn’t stumble, but never taking my eyes off her. I can’t take my eyes off her, though I know she’s looking at me expectantly. What girl doesn’t love a complement? 

“Chloe, you are…you look…I…ugh!” 

She raises a well-groomed eyebrow expectantly. 

“I think you, um…”

I step up to the bottom step so I’m level with her ear. She’s wearing 3-inch heels, dwarfing me considerably. 

I take a deep breath. “I want to rip this fucking dress to shreds and have you on every piece of furniture in this room.”

“That gorgeous, huh?” she smirks. 

“You have no idea what you do to me.” 

The thing is, Chloe could be in sweatpants and a t-shirt and I’d find her sexy. For me, it’s never been about what she’s wearing, though admittedly, she knows how to dress to get my tongue to roll out of my mouth every time. I think she just naturally oozes sex appeal – that right mix of confidence, intelligence, humor, and the ability to laugh at -herself. She’s midtown-rush-hour traffic-stopping beautiful – it’s deadly, but she’s also adorable and a little dorky, which makes her humble and relatable.

I kiss her softly on the cheek. 

“You can’t even form words and that’s all I get?” she smiles. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your make-up. Stacie will have my head in a vice. Trust me, I’ll ruin all of this – I wave my hand up and down her body – later tonight.” 

“I’m counting on it.”

I take her hand in mine and lead her to the door. “C’mon, the limo’s here.” 

“By the way, you look exquisite tonight, too. That tux just screams you.” She slides into the back seat of the car and I get in next to her, but she barely moves past the middle seat, so I wind up almost sitting on her lap. She cups my jaw and turns my head to her to whisper in my ear, “And when I take it off, you’re going to scream me.” 

I swallow hard, and Chloe looks entirely too smug as she moves over to the far seat behind the driver. Meanwhile, it takes me a minute to get my bearings. 

It’s quiet on the way to the venue. I pop some champagne that we sip, which is a mistake because the bubbly makes me horny. Hornier than I already am. 

I lean over to nibble on Chloe’s ear and she humors me for a split second before taking my glass away. “I knew this was a bad idea.” 

As she puts the glass down, I start to slowly inch her dress up over her knees to her thigh. She’s watching me with an amused, slightly curious expression, but she doesn’t make any moves to stop me. 

The hem of her dress is at her hip now, exposing a very lacey – wait…

“Chlo?”

She looks at me, expressionless. Then she looks down. “Oops. Looks like I forgot something.”

I sit up ramrod straight and I’m sure my eyes are like dinner plates. “Chloe, you’re going to the Oscars without underwear?”

“Seems that way. We can’t go back now. We’ll be late.” 

“H-Holy shit!” I think I might actually be sweating. 

“Hey Becs?” I look back at her and she glances down. I follow her gaze only to find that she’s pulled the dress up even further and parted her legs – a patch of tight, strawberry blonde curls peeking out. “Just something to look forward to later.” 

I move to touch it and she smacks my hand. Just then, the driver breaks and my head flies into the back of the passenger seat.

Chloe laughs but then leans forward to take my head in her hands. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, the pain has actually killed the…you know.” 

“Raging boner?”

I nod. “It’s times like this I really am glad I’m not a dude.” 

“I’m always glad you’re not a dude.” She kisses my temple and thumbs off the lipstick residue she’s left there. “C’mon. Out. We’re here.”

There are blinding flashbulbs everywhere, even before we open the car door. I get out first and stand aside to help Chloe. When the cameras see her, the flashes become even more frenzied. It’s overwhelming and even nauseating. And that’s just for someone like me. I can’t imagine what it’s like for Chloe. 

As we make our way along the red carpet, Chloe’s stopped by Ryan Seacrest, some reporter from E! that I recognize from past red carpets, and throngs of others – from paparazzi to fans. I stand in the background and take it all in. She engages with everyone – excited, smiling and grateful. This all comes so naturally to Chloe. It’s like she’s an artist and her medium is people, working the crowd. It’s not fake, it’s not forced. She truly thrives off the energy and the buzz. It invigorates her and enlivens her and I so easily see how it could just pull her out into an endless sea of attention-seeking, but she always wades back to me – the calm, quiet shore. When she returns, the only residual effect is a vibration that hums through her, and I can feel it when I take her hand to lead her inside the theatre. 

We’re quickly ushered to our seats – near the front, which I take as a good sign. It’s closer to the stage, which means it takes you less time to get your award, so they can end this “Marathon of Egos” at a reasonable hour (and I can get a drink and get in my fiancee’s pants…if she were wearing any at all!). Chloe gives no credence to my theory, but loves the fact that we’re sitting just behind Melissa McCarthy. 

“Should I talk to her?” she whispers.

“Of course you should.”

“What do I say?”

“Um, ‘hi’ is usually solid opener.” 

“Beca!” Chloe nudges me with her foot. “That’s not creative or funny at all!”

“OK then, say ‘hi’ as you…slip on a banana peel. Or as you mime that you’re going down stairs.” I laugh. 

Chloe just rolls her eyes. “You are no help.” She stands up. “Move it. I’m going to the ladies’ room.” 

I stand up to let her slide past me. “So, I’ll see you in about 45 minutes?” 

“If you’re lucky.” 

She playfully slaps my ass and walks up the aisle. I can’t help but smile at how damn good she looks…how that dress highlights the little shimmy in her hips. I take out my phone and text her:

Hey Baby, you want some fries with that shake?

Seconds later, I get the finger. 

My response: Is that a request or an invitation?

Minutes go by without a response and I wonder if I pissed Chloe off, but we have this banter all of the time, so I can’t imagine anything I’ve said would get her mad or be offensive. Still, I’m readying an apology as my phone buzzes: a photo from Chloe. Probably her with another movie star. 

I could not be more wrong. 

Chloe sends me a picture of her very toned thighs, clearly streaked with her arousal. 

On one hand, I’m turned on, of course. On the other: “Are you starting something without me!?!?” 

She replies. “Think about it as an appetizer.” 

I shake my head. “Oh no, baby. When I think about it, it’s the main course.” 

Suddenly, I feel the wisp of warm breath on my ear. “You don’t have to think about it at all, baby. You have the real thing.” 

My eyes shoot up to Chloe, who is biting her lip, awaiting my reaction. 

“Sadly, I don’t have the real thing for another…” I look at the time on my phone “…Four hours.” 

I stand and move further into the row so Chloe can sit on the aisle. As we sit she whispers, “Do you want to wait longer?” 

“Absolutely not!” I bark out probably a little too loudly, causing Melissa McCarthy to turn her head. 

She does a double take and then, “Chloe Beale?!” Melissa stands and faces Chloe, giving her a huge hug. “It’s so great to meet you. I absolutely loved Third Time’s A Charm.

“Thanks so much! I’m a huge fan of yours. Spy is my absolute favorite.”

“Well, I appreciate that.” 

The house lights flash and the audience quiets down. Melissa sits but leans back to Chloe. “It would be fun to work together sometime. I think you’re so funny.” 

“I’d love that!” 

“We’ll talk later.” She turns to face the stage. 

Chloe looks over at me excitedly. “Did you see that?” 

“I did, Chlo. I was right here.” 

“Melissa McCarthy wants to do a movie with me!”

“You’re welcome.”

“Huh?”

“I said, ‘you’re welcome’.”

“For?”

“Yelling and making a fool out of myself so that Melissa McCarthy would turn around.” 

“Wait, did you do that on purpose?” 

“Well, yeah. I don’t want to wait more than four hours to have sex with you only to find you beating yourself up over the lack of a good opening line.” 

Chloe shoves my shoulder. “Shut up, you. The show is starting.” 

I reach over and place my right hand on her thigh as Ellen does her opening monologue. She’s hilarious, of course, but my mind keeps drifting back to the photo Chloe texted earlier. 

Then it occurs to me that I don’t have to think about it. I can actually look at it. I swipe my phone and click on the image. The blue glow catches Chloe’s eye and I tilt the phone so she can see what I’m looking at. I smirk as I type out a text: 

Beca: Ellen is funny, but she’s not really eye candy like you.

Chloe: Eye candy? That’s all I am to you?

Beca: No way, baby. You’re the whole package. And a sexy one at that. One that I can’t wait to unwrap. 

I glance back over to Chloe and notice that she’s pulled her dress apart at the high slit, creating the space she needs to spread her legs. 

“Merry Christmas adn happy birthday, baby.” 

She’s looking at me expectantly and I shift in my seat so that I’m twisted towards her, creating somewhat of a shield between us and the person sitting to my left. Since she’s on the aisle, we don’t need to worry about anyone else. It looks like we’re doing this and I can only pray the cameras are trained on someone else for the next, well, however long it takes me to get Chloe off. 

No pressure. 

She guides my hand up under her dress and cants her hips forward to give me more access. Just like the earlier pic she texted, her thighs are slick. As she pulls my hand up, I feel the flood in her pussy and my mouth literally starts to water at the thought of being able to taste Chloe. 

With a swipe of my finger over her slit, pausing only to tease Chloe’s throbbing clit, I saturate myself with her. She’s gripping the armrest between us, white knuckled and trying to subtly control her breathing as she pushes herself into my hand to create more friction. But I quickly pull away, bringing my finger up to my lips to finally get a taste of my sweet, sweet Chloe. 

So, imagine my surprise when I feel her pull my hand to her mouth and she’s sucking on my finger instead, licking me clean. 

Part of me is disappointed. On the bright side though, her tongue anywhere on me is enough to completely ruin a pair of my underwear. Watching her, my finger in her mouth and the sensation of her soft lips wrapped around it, her tongue licking and stroking it makes my eyes roll back in my head. If I had easier access, my hand would be down my pants so fucking fast…

...Instead, I thank whatever higher power that exists and whatever designer made Chloe’s dress for the sky high slit that is basically an open invite for my wandering hands. In an instant, I slide my hand back up Chloe’s thigh. I automatically know the quickest route to her clit, thanks to the guided tour she provided earlier. 

“Becs,” she leans into me and I feel her lips on my ear. “Fuck me, ple - “

But she doesn’t have to finish the sentence because my fingers are already there, wiggling against her. Using the arm rests on either side of her seat, she pushes herself up slightly to create some space, which allows me to push two fingers inside her. 

She slowly lowers herself onto me, biting her lip. It’s uncomfortable as shit because I’ve basically had to twist my arm, palm side up under her, but it gives me the advantage of being able to cup her pussy so that Chloe can rub her clit against me. 

Chloe gets incredibly hard and swollen when she’s horny. It’s hot to see, but I imagine it’s also physically uncomfortable if left unattended. So, I’m trying hard not to move my arm too much to give it away, but when Chloe’s this torqued up, gentle doesn’t really work. 

I pull my fingers out of her and hear her exhale a small groan at the loss of contact, but then, I grip her clit between the knuckles of my first and middle fingers and start to massage her. 

The new sensation, coupled with the new rhythm and her overall heightened sensitivity must startle her because she jerks back. Automatically, thinking I’ve hurt her, I start to withdraw my hand, but she wraps her fingers around my forearm and slowly guides me back down. 

I slide my fingers to either side of her again and continue to flutter them against her, squeezing her clit in a rhythm until I can feel it pulse. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe trying to still herself from the oncoming orgasm. 

“You close?” I mouth. 

She nods, somewhat frantically and I know I can’t keep her hanging on for too much longer. I put one finger tip against her, push down firmly and start to roll her in tight circles. It only takes about three rotations and I feel her bear down onto my hand, onto the seat as her hips jerk against me and she exhales a stuttering sigh. 

I keep rubbing her until I know she’s come down and I withdraw from her as she straightens her dress, but she doesn’t miss me licking her juices from in between my fingers and coating my palm. 

Only then does it hit her like a ton of bricks. She looks at me eyes wide. “Oh my god. What did we just do?” 

“I don’t know what you were doing, but I was getting my fiancee off at a major awards show.” 

“I can’t believe it. Why did you let me do that?” 

“Why did you wear a dress with a slit so high I can basically see your molars?” 

“So it’s my fault?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“Nope, no way. I’m not taking the fall for this. I blame you and your nimble fingers.” 

“Hey, you just put them where you wanted them.” 

“And you knew just how to work me to make me come.” 

“Fine. It’s my fault. And if you play your cards right, it can be my fault again later. And again after that, if you want.” 

“I think I like it when you’re at fault. You should take the blame more often.”

“I’ll take it anytime you want to give it to me.” I nip Chloe’s ear, trying to distract myself from the unbearable pressure between my legs, but my flirting game ends abruptly when they announce the category of Best Supporting Female in a Comedy or Musical – Chloe’s category. 

She tenses, and I squeeze her hand when they announce her name as one of the nominees. A camera is in her face to gauge her reaction - we couldn’t have finished at a better time. I breathe a sigh of relief as they read the names of the third, fourth and fifth nominee. Then, there’s a tortuous pause as the presenters fumble with opening the envelope. I think they think they’re disarming a bomb. 

Emily Blunt reads: “And the winner is Chloe Beale for her role as Julia in Third Time’s A Charm.”

Chloe is seemingly cemented to her chair, too in shock to move, but there’s a camera back in her face and she has to have some sort of reaction beyond dumbstruck. She moves to the stage and successfully navigates the stairs without face-planting, so already she’s a winner. Then Emily Blunt hands her the Oscar and kisses Chloe on the cheek. 

“I don’t know what’s more exciting. Winning this or getting a kiss from Emily Blunt.” Emily curtseys and then steps back, yielding the floor to Chloe to finish her speech. “I’d of course like to thank my management team. They keep me on time and on good behavior. Most times. And of course to everyone who had a hand in making Third Time’s A Charm so successful and more importantly, so much fun! Thanks also to my parents, who actually believed – maybe more than I did – that I could do more than just pay the bills by acting, and finally to my one true love, my soon-to-be-wife, Beca – always so excited when things go my way, and supportive when the cards are stacked against me. Thank you, babe, for making me happy every day. I know it’s not always easy. I love to you to the moon and back.” 

Melissa McCarthy glances over her shoulder at me and smiles. I think I return her smile, but I’m too focused on wiping away the tear that’s rolling down my cheek. Chloe has so, so, so many people to thank – there are people who have helped to literally build her now-Oscar-worthy self. Hell, I should be up there thanking them, too, but instead, I’m watching my fiancée proclaim her love to me on national TV. 

Not the most subtle way to reveal that we’re engaged and I know we’ll be fresh meat for the tabloids in the coming days. For now though, I just want Chloe to enjoy this moment. 

As expected, Chloe doesn’t immediately return to our seats. She’s backstage, facing the press questions that I’m sure are now focused on our engagement and less on her win or her upcoming projects, but it feels like she’s been gone a lot longer than she should be. 

I’m almost ready to fight an usher so that I can get backstage to find her when I get a text. 

Chloe: Commercial break in 2 mins. When they do, get up and follow the signs for the rooftop. 

I blindly do as I’m told, curious as to what awaits me on the rooftop, but I never actually make it there.

As I’m walking towards the rooftop entrance, a hand reaches out, grabs my arm and yanks me into a room – an empty coat check. 

It’s quiet up here. All the action is on the main floor of the auditorium...or so I think. This floor is apparently offices and conference rooms, abandoned after 5 p.m. 

“Hi,” Chloe whispers breathlessly before planting a firm kiss on my lips.

“Hi, Oscar winner.” I pull her close to me. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“You are?” 

“Yes, let me show you how much.” I start to slide my hand in between the slit on her dress, but she pulls it away and holds it behind my back. 

“I won an Oscar tonight – “ 

“Way to rub it in, Chloe.” 

“— And I want to make you a winner too.” 

“Oh yeah, and how do you plan to do that?” 

Apparently, for Chloe, winning an Oscar is enough foreplay. Before I know what happens, I feel her hands at the zipper of my pants, slowly drawing it downward and reaching in to feel my pussy. 

I smirk. “Well, I already feel like a champion.” I throw my head back at her touch and let a guttural moan escape me as she begins to massage me, my silk thong going a long way to create pleasurable, and much needed, friction. 

Chloe is kissing my neck, nibbling my chin, my jaw bone, my ear lobe and I feel her pull back the strip of fabric over my crotch so that her fingers are on me. In me. 

I know she doesn’t have much room to work, so I pop the button on my pants and let them drop to the floor, followed by my underwear. 

This time, it’s Chloe who moans as she removes her fingers and, making sure she’s holding my gaze, licks. Them. Clean. In painfully slow motion. So I don’t miss a moment. And she doesn’t miss what that does to me, as my hips rut forward, completely out of my control. 

Then, she drops to her knees in front of me, gripping the backs of my thighs and pulling me over her mouth. 

She parts my lips with her two fingers and wastes no time putting her lips on my clit, offering gentle caresses and licks. I’m so aroused that I almost feel lightheaded, but once Chloe starts to suck, it’s like a bolt of lightning that surges through my body and I’m jolted back to life.

And what a life it is. My Oscar-winning fiancée sucking me off in some back room at the Dolby Theatre while the likes of Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks sit, decked out in their Sunday best, in an auditorium two floors below. 

I can’t help but rock against Chloe’s face, my hands tangled in her hair and I’m trying not to yank with each of her tugs and nips at my pulsing clit. The things she’s doing to me have awakened a primal, visceral response within me and the only thing I can do is let it happen. 

I probably could come from Chloe’s wet mouth – lips and tongue – all over my wet pussy (Yeah, the clean-up is going to be a bitch, but totally worth it) and it would be an incredible release, so I’m undoubtedly disappointed and confused when Chloe guides me back a step or two from her. 

She starts to rub my clit again with her fingers, but doesn’t resist when I slide her hand back down my slit and inside. 

“I need you here,” I whine. “Please.” 

I’m relishing the pressure building between my legs as she alternates between curling and pumping her fingers in my pussy. Even better is watching her do it – the concentration and determination on her face. Bottom lip pulled in between her teeth and the sinewy muscle in her forearm contorting with each thrust. 

As my eyes drop lower, I notice that she’s freed her breasts from her dress and is toying and teasing her nipples with her free hand, licking her hand and rubbing her palm against them. Both are incredibly erect – one of Chloe’s many tells that she’s horny as hell. 

She makes eye contact with me and smirks, as if she’s just been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. When she doesn’t look away, I know that she wants to be caught, that she wants me to watch. So, for a moment, I put my own impending orgasm to the side – willing myself not to come just yet – and take in Chloe as she pleasures herself. 

She palms her breast, rolling her nipple under the flat of her hand, then squeezing. She traces around dark pebbled flesh, spiraling into the center where she twists and tugs and pulls. Eventually, the repeated pattern jerks her hips forward in a series of quick thrusts and she looks up at me with pleading eyes. I know that look. 

“You close, Chlo?” even though the answer is written in the sheen of sweat on her face, her parted lips and her uneven breaths. She nods anyway.

I pull at her hips until the backs of my legs hit a chair. As I sit, she straddles me – one arm draped over my shoulder and the other heading south, back to my pussy. She starts to massage my clit I while take her breast in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue. 

“Harder, babe,” she rasps. “Suck me harder.” 

Chloe doesn’t really like soft caresses on her breasts, especially when we’re this far into things. She likes it rough and so I rake my teeth over her nipple, hard enough to draw a sharp cry from her that belies the pleasure I know she’s getting. I do it again once more on her left breast before taking her in my mouth and sucking her, squeezing her both breasts together as I do. 

When I release her, she exhales, throwing her head back with relief, but I don’t let her relax for too long. I start to kiss and lick my way to her other breast, tugging at the skin over the firm swell. Then, I wrap my lips around her, my tongue exploring the taut flesh and the hard nub. I lick over it and back, over it and back, over it and back until she’s arching her back, pushing her nipple further into my mouth. It’s then that I close my lips around her and start to swirl my tongue – slow, slow, slow, followed by a hard suck.

Her nails dig into my back, but pain and pleasure have fused into one virtually indistinguishable, indiscernible wave that’s about to wash over us both. 

I grip Chloe’s shoulder as I come, writhing and rutting against her. 

Chloe follows, gripping my hair as she rides out the orgasm I’ve given her just from nipple play alone. 

My head flops on to her collarbone as she runs her fingers through my hair. My hands are around her waist, holding her close to me. 

We stay like that for a few moments until our breathing returns to normal. I guide Chloe off my lap and help her stand. She extends her hands and pulls me to her so we’re face-to-to face. 

My gaze flits between her eyes and her mouth, and I can tell she’s trying to read me. All I want is to kiss her, so I lean forward and capture her lips with mine, gently cradling and rocking her. 

They are soft, slow kisses, partially because we’re exhausted, but mostly because we want to be close and in love. 

Of course, I can’t let the sweet moment go on for too long. I smile against her mouth and Chloe pulls back. “What?” 

“I’d like to thank the Academy.”


End file.
